


Three’s a Crowd

by Ladroitte



Category: My Time At Portia (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladroitte/pseuds/Ladroitte
Summary: They were a team, damn it. They were a team of three, had been for years now, and despite how obnoxious they could be, he loved the two youths more than he’d ever loved anyone else. So as what he’d assumed would be a quick and hot fling had turned into something more lasting, he’d realised…He was jealous.





	Three’s a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alien_Duck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alien_Duck/gifts).

> Sam and Arlo... A pairing I didn't know I needed until Alien_Duck planted the idea firmly in my brain. And I just had to write it. 
> 
> So, this is a thank you gift to her. ^_^

Remington had used to think that the worst kind of couple was the kind that felt they had to openly flaunt their love in everyone’s faces for it to be worth anything. The kind of people who seemed to get a thrill from the attention they got when they kissed, touched or whispered sweet nothings to each other in public. The kind that made loud declarations of love in the middle of a plaza or fell down on one knee on top of a table in a restaurant.

But lately, he’d come to know of something so annoying, so unbearable obnoxious that he would have _ preferred _the sticky exhibitionism of lovey-dovey couples to this torture any day of the week.

His colleagues thought they were being sneaky. They thought he had no idea what was going on between them, which was… unfathomable. Because to Remington, they couldn’t be any more obvious.

It had started with just little looks and touches. Arlo would give an order, and Sam would smirk and say “yes sir”, and he would glance at her, lingering on that smirk for a tad too long before tearing his gaze away. Or she would run her fingers across his shoulders while walking past him as he practiced with his training dummy, and he’d freeze and look after her over his shoulder as she sauntered away. Remington saw everything. Every look, every tight smile, every little touch that they seemed to think was just the kind of innocent thing they could do with each other because they were colleagues, but that neither of them ever did with him.

It hadn’t bothered him much at first. Arlo might be the Captain, but both he and Sam were much younger than Remington, and so it wasn’t strange that they’d found each other. They were both young, fit and full of energy, and if they wanted to channel that energy into each other, then that was fine. 

But then things escalated. The innocent little looks and touches turned into whispered taunts or challenges, more brazen touches and snarky comments, and he soon found himself in the middle of a very, very palpable sexual tension that just wouldn’t give in and _ snap_. He’d see the ways they were looking at each other, like they wanted to tear each other apart from the inside, and he’d pretend not to notice while internally cursing at how damned oblivious they were of their own obviousness. 

And then finally, _ finally _ that thin line had snapped in half, and he’d had to press two pillows to each ear to shut out the loud, angry noises from Arlo’s bedroom as they got rid of their months of sexual frustration, but in that moment, it had been worth it, because he knew things would surely calm down from there on out.

Oh, how wrong he’d been. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The morning after, Sam had sneaked out before he exited his bedroom, but not before he was lucid enough to hear her stumble around in search of her things and complain in exasperation over how Arlo had apparently tore a rip in her favorite shirt. He’d been lucid enough to hear the Captain whisper-yell at her to “get out before Remy wakes up and sees that catastrophic haystack you call hair”. And he’d been lucid enough to understand that the low growls, gasped insults and sounds of furniture tipping over that followed meant that they’d gone back at it again. And when he’d eventually left his bedroom, after giving them more than enough time to finish being obnoxious, Arlo had tried and failed so ridiculously hard to act normal that Remington had just said fuck it and gone to dig for power stones by himself.

The next phase? Hushed arguments about the nature of their relationship, where “I’m your boss, Sam, we can’t do this” apparently didn’t put an end to it, because “I don’t fucking care, Arlo, I want you” seemed to trump everything else, at least until their next argument, where the subject of the day would be “I’ll be leaving for the Flying Pigs eventually, this is doomed to fail” and Sam would counter with “Then I’ll come with you” before Arlo shot it down with “And leave Remington to protect Portia on his own? No, you’re staying”, and the only thing that was capable of ending their arguments seemed to be sex. Either loud and shouty sex that seemed to shake the entire building, or somewhat softer sex where their whispered appreciation for each other leaked out through the cracks in Arlo’s bedroom door and snaked its way through Remington’s as easily as a knife cutting through butter.

And if they knew that he was home, sometimes Arlo would walk out first and try to distract him while Sam sneaked out behind them. 

Damned naive, those two. Clever, competent fighters, but so oblivious it was painful to see.

And it wasn’t _ just _that it was annoying. Because eventually, the loud and passionate phase ended, and his colleagues started giving each other secret little smiles when they thought he wasn’t looking, and pulling each other into relieved embraces after fights with AI’s or creatures in the ruins, and giving each other massages after workout sessions, and… And Remington felt empty.

At first, he hadn’t been fully sure what made him feel that way, but as Sam and Arlo’s relationship settled into something more quietly intimate, he started growing more and more depressed, and more and more conscious of his heavy loneliness.

Because they were a team, damn it. They were a team of three, had been for years now, and despite how obnoxious they could be, he loved the two youths more than he’d ever loved anyone else. So as what he’d assumed would be a quick and hot fling had turned into something more lasting, he’d realised… 

He was jealous.

And that was a horrible place to find himself in, it was a disastrous realization to come to, and maybe that was why, when he’d finally allowed himself to come to that conclusion, he’d dealt with it by drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Just one night, just one teeny, tiny night of self-pity, and then he could pull himself up by his collar again and move on.

How perfectly torturous that the very moment he’d brought out the bottle, Sam and Arlo had walked into the building--giggling, with their arms around each other’s shoulders and waist--and decided to join him for a Wednesday night drink... or two. 

How perfectly ironic that, as they all became more affected by the alcohol, Sam and Arlo also became more physical with each other, cuddling up in a corner of the couch and making little circles on each other’s arms and hands while they smiled and murmured what he could only guess were those sweet nothings he so hated to see people share in public. And then Arlo’s smile faded as he seemed to realize that Remington was still there, and Sam rolled her eyes at him.

“Come on, we’re all drunk,” she assured him quietly, but not so quietly that Remington couldn’t hear. “Even if he remembers this tomorrow, he won’t think anything of it.”

And Arlo did seem to relax then, because he even allowed Sam to lean up and kiss him, even wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap, and Remington forced himself to look away, only catching out of the corner of his eye how Arlo stood and hoisted her up into his arms and how Sam locked her ankles behind his back as they made their way toward Arlo’s room, and Remington just wanted them to _ stop_, to turn back, because he needed them, he wanted them, and… and... and they _ did _ stop. 

Arlo looked at him over his shoulder as Sam slid down to stand on her own two feet again. 

“Can you repeat that?” he asked in a low voice that sent shivers through Remington’s body, and he sniffled and realized that shit, he was crying, and that wasn’t supposed to happen, not while they were still in the same room as him at least, and what was Arlo even referring to with his question?

Sam let go of Arlo’s shoulders and rushed over to Remington’s side, crouching down in front of him, and the Captain slowly followed.

“Remy,” Sam said softly, his name a little slurred as it rolled off the tip off her tongue, and it made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her close, but he resisted. “What’s wrong?”

He sniffled again, looking between Sam, who watched him with a crease between her eyebrows, and Arlo, who seemed somewhat uncomfortable but nevertheless wore a worried frown of his own, and he wasn’t sure what made him do it, but suddenly the dam just broke and everything came crashing out as he heard himself sob loudly.

“You--you’re--so great and I l-love you,” he yowled, dragging his arm across his face in an attempt to dry his tears, but it just came away full of snot. “You’re s-so great and, and pretty and amazing,” he added, gulping as he saw Arlo’s cheeks flush. “I just, just want--I just want--”

“Ssh, ssh,” Sam soothed, reaching up to stroke him over his hair. “We’re here.”

But she didn’t understand, why didn’t she understand? In desperation, he looked up at Arlo again, and the Captain _ did _seem to understand, because he was staring back at him, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise, and Remington wasn’t sure whether to consider that a win or a loss just yet.

“We’re here,” Sam repeated with a soft smile, and by Peach, he wished he wouldn’t have drunk quite so much, because this was going South real quick.

As Remington sobbed again, Arlo walked up beside Sam and leaned in toward her.

“Sam,” he said quietly, pausing as he glanced at the other man, and then he lowered his voice even further to whisper something inaudible into her ear. And as he whispered, Sam’s expression went from soft worry, passing briefly into shocked awe, to settling into a loving smile. And then she turned her head to whisper something back to him. Arlo looked surprised at first, but then he smiled slightly, nodding as he straightened and backed away again, and Sam leaned in further toward Remington, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he froze, because he had no idea what that meant.

“Hey, Remy,” she whispered, sending a hot puff of breath against his cheek, “let’s get you into bed.”

He stared up at her as she pulled back, running her hands down his arms to reach his hands and grab them, then pull them toward herself. Dazed, he let her pull him to his feet, stumbling a little but regaining his balance with the help of both her and Arlo, who rushed forward immediately. And then his colleagues took one arm each around their shoulders and helped walk him toward the staircase, then slowly up every step, Sam giggling uncharacteristically as she accidentally kicked her foot into a bucket that was standing upside down on the first platform, and then Arlo sighing and rolling his eyes at her reaction. Remington had a stray thought that alcohol seemed to heighten the personalities of both of them: Sam became even bubblier, and Arlo even moodier. Now what did that say about Remington, if this was _ his _personality, just strengthened tenfold?

They reached his room, and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect now, but he wasn’t going to embarrass himself, not again, so he quietly let them lead him toward his bed, waiting while Arlo pushed the blankets aside to make space for him, then allowing them to carefully sit him down on the edge of the bed and push him down onto his back. He looked up at them in silence as Sam pulled the blankets and covers back up over him, smiling fondly, with Arlo watching him carefully over her shoulder.

“Sam,” Remington began, voice thick, “Arlo--”

“Ssh,” Sam said, placing her left palm against his cheek. It felt warm and safe. “We know. We love you too, Remy. But you’ve had a little too much alcohol, ok, sweetie? And you need to sleep it off.” She leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his forehead before standing up straight beside the bed.

He blinked up at her slowly, watching as Arlo wrapped his arms around her from the back and rested his chin on top of her head, and he had a strange feeling in his chest, like… like he was a child again, and Sam and Arlo were his mother and father, coming to tuck him in and say good night.

And strangely enough… That feeling was fine. It was more than fine, actually. Because maybe this, this easy, relaxed family-friendship between the three of them was exactly what he wanted. Maybe he didn’t want anything more than this. Maybe… maybe what he needed was just to feel like he was a part of something again?

“I love you,” he slurred, eyes struggling to stay open.

“We love you too, right Arlo?”

“Yeah,” Arlo said quietly. “We love you, buddy.”

A safe, warm feeling lowered itself over Remington as he allowed his eyelids to fall closed. He yawned, shifting a little to get more comfortable beneath the covers.

“Good night,” Sam whispered somewhere nearby, or far away maybe, drifting away… 

“Sleep tight,” Arlo added from even further away.

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Remington murmured, yawning softly as he sank deeper into his bed. 

He heard a soft snicker, low murmurs, and then a door closing. And then he lost himself in the warm safety of his blankets.

* * *

Sam wrapped her arms around Arlo’s neck and stood on tiptoes to reach his lips, placing a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth. When she pulled back, he had an eyebrow raised in a silent question, and she couldn’t help smirking.

“Apparently we haven’t been as sneaky as we thought we were.”

“Sam,” he said quietly, in that admonishing voice he sometimes used with her, which had an unfair ability to make her both annoyed and turned on at the same time. “I know what I heard. He said--”

She pressed her index finger against his lips, shaking her head slowly. “He loves us, and we’ve been skulking around behind his back, shutting him out of our lives. It’s not strange if it makes him feel lonely.”

“Lonely or not, I’d rather not bring a third person into this… mess,” he said, gesturing between them. “It’s bad enough that I’m sleeping with _ one _of my subordinates.”

Sam rolled her eyes and let her arms fall back down to her sides. Then she turned around and started down the stairs, somewhat unsteadily.

“He doesn’t really want to sleep with us. He just wants to feel like he’s part of the team again. Trust me on this.” She paused to look at him over her shoulder, smiling smugly when she saw his gaze dart up from her hips to her face. “Now are you going to finish what we started, _ boss_, or are you just gonna stand there gawking all night?”


End file.
